


I Hope You Don't Mind

by tonkssweeney



Series: My Reason For Living Is For Loving You [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Flashbacks, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:38:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonkssweeney/pseuds/tonkssweeney
Summary: Emily suggests that Taron's feelings for Richard are more than friendly, making Taron reevaluate everything he thought he knew about himself.Written for Camp Nanowrimo July 2019.





	I Hope You Don't Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I know that this is pretty long for a one-shot, but I felt it read better that way as opposed to a chaptered fic. Hopefully you like it enough to keep reading through till the end!
> 
> Comments and kudos fuel my writing tank. :)
> 
> P.S. This fic is un-beta'd, so sorry in advance for any errors!

They'd known each other for over a year now. They shared once in a lifetime experiences, exchanged silly childhood secrets over lunch in their trailers, essentially learning parts of each other that they'd never really shared with anyone else. By every definition, they were best mates.

So why was he just now realizing it?

It should have been obvious that their friendship meant something more to him. He should've realized it every time he felt his stomach twist or his jaw clench at the sight of a pap photo of him and Ellie, or every time he felt a tingle in _that_ part of his lower abdomen whenever his deep, sexy voice resonated in his ear when they talked on the phone. He should've known then, but he didn't.

Taron didn't recognize his romantic feels for Richard until Emily cornered him at the 2018 New Years party they were attending in the heart of Los Angeles. Everyone who's anyone was attending this party, except for the one person Taron really wanted to hang out with - Richard Madden.

_"You've been on your phone and ignoring me all night," Emily bickered, her eyes darkening to where Taron couldn't tell where her pupils ended and her irises began._

_Taron looked over the balcony of the Marriott's Presidential Suite, gazing out at the L.A. skyline. "Sorry, love. I'm a bit distracted, as it were." The truth was, he had a lot on his mind. Rocketman would premier in five months, and while he was so bloody proud of the film, he still felt apprehensive for the entire world to see it. He wanted to please everyone so badly, and more specifically, make Elton proud. Literal blood, sweat, and tears went into making this film, and he needed the world to see it. He needed everyone to feel his passion, his dedication, and his commitment._

_Emily crossed her arms over her chest, her feet planted firmly into the ground. "Is this about Richard?" she asked a little more quietly than she had before, as if the question she'd asked was part of some kind of secret._

_"What?" Taron sputtered, laughing a little harder than intended. Richard was his best mate, no question, but Emily was implying something way more than that. He supposed that he should get used to such questions, as he was sure to be asked them time and time again during the Rocketman press junket - but to hear the question coming from his girlfriend of two years was quite baffling to say the least._

_"You talk to him all the time, and you talk ABOUT him even more so; did you fall in love with him Taron? Are you in love with him?"_

_Taron laughed again, softer, as he listened to Emily's words. For all intents and purposes, he considered himself a straight man, even though he had had one or two drunken nights where he found himself on his knees in a bathroom stall in front of another bloke. He always felt at home in the LGBT community; growing up as a theater kid will do that to you, he told himself. Plus, Richard was a good looking bloke, you didn't have to be gay to acknowledge that. That didn't mean he had romantic feelings for him - or did it?_

_Emily uncrossed her arms and reached for Taron, touching his forearm lightly. The action shook him out of his reverie and when he looked at her, the darkness in her eyes was gone, replaced by a curtain of sadness. "You can't even answer the question," she pointed out, her voice firm yet defeated all the same. "I can't do this anymore, Taron. You've been absent from our relationship for as long as you've known Richard. You've spent your entire night out here texting him, when you could be inside with me, enjoying the holiday. I deserve better than this."_

_Taron deflated like a balloon, his shoulders sinking an inch or two. She was right; he had been texting Richard for hours, seeing what he was up to and playfully asking him what 2019 was like from 'the future'. And when he thought long and hard about what Emily was accusing him of, he realized that he'd much rather be ringing in the New Year with Richard than with Emily and the dozens of people at this party that he hadn't even made an effort to get to know. That realization alone was enough to almost knock the breath out of him._

_"I'm so sorry, Em," he whispered, taking her hand in his and gently kissing the top of it. "You do deserve much better than what I've given you over the past year."_

_The look on her face was filled with pain, and Taron felt himself ache at the sight of it. She was right; he'd been absent in their relationship, but he never once thought they'd break up. After two years together, he thought that maybe they'd be together forever, that they would work through whatever came their way. But as he was confronted with the situation, he didn't find himself wanting to fight for them. Emily didn't deserve someone who wouldn't - couldn't - fight for her._

_She kissed him on the cheek and without a word, disappeared into the crowd of people who were counting down the clock to the new year: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..._

It had been three weeks since their break up, and Taron hadn't been able to muster the courage to tell Richard that he was a single man. Richard would ask why they broke up, and Taron, unable to lie for the life of him, would have to spill the reasons why - that Emily suspected his feelings for Richard were more than friendly, and that, after three weeks of soul searching within himself, he realized that she was right.

He didn't know why he never noticed it before because he'd always liked Richard, even before they started filming and had to kiss and roll around mostly naked with one another. The day they met they instantly clicked, and Taron knew there was something special between them; a brotherhood of sorts. Everything with Richard was simply easy, but all that hadn't been enough to make him question his sexual identity. Taron hated labels, and he vowed from that day forward to stop using them to describe himself.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket, jolting him out of his thoughts. A smile crossed his face from ear to ear when he saw a certain name hover on the screen.

"Dickie! How are you, mate?"

Richard chuckled at the exaggerated greeting. "Hello to ye too, T. I'm doing alright." There it was - that voice with that sultry Scottish accent. Immediately, Taron's skin bubbled with goosebumps.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

As mates who spent most of their time in separate countries, they got used to talking on the phone often. Taron could tell by the tone of Richard's voice, which was a little deeper than normal, that something was amiss. "You're bloody hiding something from me," he said quietly. "What is it?"

Richard sighed, not in exhaustion, but more in rout. "Ellie and I broke up. I wanted to tell ye before the tabloids got the word out." It was true, ever since Richard became a Golden Globe winner, the paps never gave him a reprieve.

Taron stiffened. Now was his time to share that he too had broken up with his girlfriend, but when he went to open his mouth he lost the words. "Oh Dickie, so sorry mate. D'ya wanna come out to L.A. for a holiday? Get your mind off of it all?" The words spilled out of his lips before he could stop them, but why would he want to? His mate deserved a holiday, and he wanted to see him. No harm in that, right?

"T," Richard chuckled. "That sounds lovely, actually. I could use some of that L.A. sunshine. Ye ready to put me up in that mansion of yers, or are ye going to make yer best mate check into a hotel?"

"Sod off!" Taron laughed. His beach side condo was anything but a mansion, but he loved it nonetheless. "Of course you can stay with me. Ring me with your flight information and I will be there."

"Will do. I'll see ye tomorrow, yeah?"

"Tomorrow? Someone's in quite a bit of a rush," Taron laughed again, teasingly of course. Honestly, if he could snap his fingers and teleport Richard to his condo, that would be highly preferred. 

"I hope I don't hear complaining over there, Mr. Egerton."

Taron rolled his eyes even though Richard couldn't see him. Were they always spouting flirty banter back and forth, and he'd just never realized it? "Shut it," he mumbled through his insanely wide smile. "Get on it and text me the details."

Once they'd hung up, Taron glanced around his condo, mortified. The place was nothing short of a pigsty, and he needed to tidy up before Richard got there. He felt the need to impress Richard in any way possible and maybe, just maybe, he'd muster up the courage to tell him how he felt.

\---

By the following morning, everything was set for Richard's arrival; clean bed sheets in the guest room, a stocked fridge full of booze and food, and a sparkling clean condo from top to bottom. Taron was showered and dressed down in a hat, aviator sunglasses, jeans and a jumper. He thought it would be a nice surprise to meet Richard at baggage claim instead of at arrivals, so when he saw Richard coming down the hallway towards him with suitcases in tow, he grinned and waved obnoxiously at him to get his attention. So much for being incognito.

"Look at ye, T, yer completely ridiculous," Richard greeted him with a laugh and a shake of the head. He dropped his bags and wrapped his arms around Taron, hugging tightly. Taron was glad for the intensity of the hug because it kept him grounded when he felt like he could float away at any minute. He didn't know many men that looked as fine as Richard did getting off an eleven hour flight. His hair was perfect, he smelt fantastic, and his eyes were so bright blue that he felt himself swimming happily in them. He wondered how had he never appreciated Richard's looks before.

"Glad you're here, mate. Can I take your bags?" he offered, but didn't wait for Richard to respond before he grabbed the handle of his rolling suitcase and slung the garment bag over his shoulder. "I'm in the car park just outside."

Richard slung his arm over Taron's shoulders and pressed a hard, wet kiss to his cheek. "It's so good to see ye, T. I have to confess that when I rang ye yesterday, I was hoping ye'd invite me over for a visit. Otherwise I was about to beg ye."

Taron cleared his throat in an effort to distract his cheeks from burning up with blush. He hated his damn perpetual rosy cheeks and how they always, _always_ gave his feelings away. "Is that so? Well, I'm glad you're here too. And I hope you're hungry, because I've bought enough food to last us through the rest of winter," he said with a chuckle. 

When they arrived at his car - a black Aston Martin DBS of course - Taron loaded the luggage into the trunk and opened the passenger door for Richard. "Getting ready for that James Bond audition, are we?" Richard joked, the corner of his mouth turning into a smug smirk, his hand resting over Taron's on top of the door. "When did you learn to drive in the US?"

"Oh shut it. I've been telling everyone that you need to play Bond, not me," he quipped, turning his hand over to take Richard's hand in his, giving it a quick peck before he headed over to the driver's side. It was true; whenever Bond rumors came up in his interviews, he always deflected and mentioned Richard as a better choice over him. What Bond qualities did he have other than decent fighting skills and the sexy car? He had nothing on Richard, who oozed raw sexual magnetism on top of all the other necessary Bond-like skills. "I got my license just a few weeks ago, actually. Figured it would be more helpful than relying on Uber, or whatever car my agent sends me."

"Good looking out."

The drive back to Taron's condo took almost an hour because of godforsaken L.A. traffic, so by the time they reached their final destination the sun was just about to set. Taron lived in a modest sized condo right on Santa Monica beach, and he loved it there because it was close enough to Los Angeles for work related things, but far enough away that he didn't have to deal with the hustle and bustle. The views couldn't be beat, either.

He lugged Richard's suitcases inside and left them in the foyer until they got settled. "The guest room is set up if you feel like you need some shut eye. Or I can whip us up something to eat, if you'd rather."

Richard hung his jacket on a rack in the foyer and stepped further inside and, after a moment of ponder, took a seat at the kitchen island. "Food sounds great, thanks mate. Yer always boasting about yer culinary skills, so I'm eager to see them in action."

"Oh no, hopefully I haven't oversold myself," Taron laughed, swinging open the refrigerator door to offer Richard a few options. "Surf and turf? Chicken kebabs? What d'you reckon?"

"I vote kebabs," he replied. "Can I help with anything?"

Taron had already started pulling out the necessary supplies - chicken, assorted veggies, and wild rice. "Actually," he started, "you can sit there and relax. That's what you can do." He grinned at the expression on Richard's face, which was one of exhaustion, but also amusement. It was obvious to Taron that Richard was jet lagged, as anyone would be after half a day of traveling. "Don't worry mate, I've got this. The only thing you have to do is choose between wine or beer."

Richard shook his head at Taron, who looked nothing short of a kid in a candy store as he prepped the veggies for their meal, putting them into the oven to roast. "M'feeling like a glass of wine will do me in, so I'll go with a beer."

"Good point. Wouldn't want your pretty little face to fall asleep in a pile of rice, now would we?" Taron waited for Richard's reaction, which was a typical roll of the eyes and a light blush. For someone so attractive, he was rather insecure of himself, and Taron couldn't help but compliment the shit out of him in hopes to condition him into accepting a compliment every once in a while. After thorough preparation, he placed the chicken in the oven and grabbed two beers from the fridge, settling down in the chair next to Richard.

Richard clinked their bottles together before taking a sip. "So mate, ye haven't talked about Emily in a great while. How is she doing? As busy as ever?"

Taron chugged an exorbitant amount of beer before answering, hoping the liquid would enter his bloodstream immediately, giving him the courage he needed for this discussion. Maybe if he skirted around the question he could bide himself some time until he was ready, he mused to himself. "She's - she's doing alright," he guessed. Truthfully he had no idea how she was doing, as she'd been ignoring his calls and texts since their break up.

"Glad to hear it," Richard replied, the half-truth enough to deter him from asking any additional questions.

The timer for the oven rang and interrupted their conversation, and Taron realized that he was literally being saved by the bell. He jumped up and used his oven mitts to pull both trays of food out of the oven. In an effort to continue impressing Richard, he plated their dishes as if they were dining in at a five-star restaurant. When he placed the meal in front of Richard, he was beaming with pride.

"Wow T, you've really got quite the presentation skills," Richard chuckled, bending his head down to sniff the various aromas coming from the dish. "I'm impressed." 

Taron returned to the seat next to Richard and gently bumped his left knee against Richard's right. "Hope it tastes just as good as it looks," he said. "I'll cook for you any time you'd like."

 _I'd do anything for you_ , he thought to himself. He would have felt pretty pathetic if it weren't for the fact that he was sure Richard would do anything for him, too. Their friendship knew no bounds.

He stabbed a piece of asparagus with his fork and held it up to Richard's mouth, winking at him suggestively. "The guest of honor gets the first bite."

"Yer ridiculous," Richard stated, although that didn't stop him from actually taking a bite from Taron's fork. "OhmyGod, T, brilliant," he exclaimed mid chew, and Taron felt like he'd just won a James Beard award.

"Wait till I make you the surf and turf," he laughed, his own mouth stuffed full of the delicious meal. "So how have you been, since, you know, the whole Ellie thing?" Taron felt the need to tip toe around the issue, not really sure how upset Richard was over the whole situation. He selfishly hoped that Richard had wanted the break up, hoping against hope that he'd return Taron's feelings. Perhaps he had a impractical view of love from watching too many romantic comedies over the years.

Richard gave a shrug and put down his fork, his arms wrapping around his own midsection like a security blanket. Taron observed how his body language always changed whenever he felt nervous, uncomfortable, or anything else of the sort - and this seemed no different. "It was amicable. We both knew it wasn't working, so we broke it off mutually." Richard yawned and Taron could see the tiredness set in his mate's big round eyes. 

"You look right knackered, mate. Why don't you turn in? We have all day tomorrow to catch up."

"Is it that obvious?" Richard smiled and stood from his stool, placing a hand on Taron's shoulder to give it a friendly squeeze. "Cheers then. See ye in the morning." He bent down to kiss Taron's cheek, a friendly gesture they always shared with each other, but now that Taron was acutely aware of his feelings for Richard, he felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. It was almost enough to push him towards confessing his feelings to Richard right there in the kitchen, but his fear of rejection stopped him.

"G'night."

\---

It had been Taron's intention to wake up early and make breakfast for Richard, but he must've underestimated his own level of exhaustion. He awoke at half past eleven to most of his senses being blissfully assaulted at once; the bright sun blinded him through a part in the curtains, his ears rang with a sweet tune coming from another room, and his nose attracted the sweet smell of bacon.

He washed his face and brushed his teeth before tiptoeing out of the room and down the hallway. As he got closer to the kitchen, the sound of Richard's singing came into range. Smiling, Taron leaned against the door frame and quietly observed his mate over the stove, flipping eggs and singing _I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues_. Taron smiled, happy to observe the very rare occasion of his mate singing his heart out without care. Usually it was the other way around; Richard was definitely the shy one out of the pair. Taron squinted his eyes, wishing that they were able to record this moment so that he could replay it forever.

"Just stare into space, picture my face in your hands. Live for each second without hesitation and never forget I'm your man," Taron sang, his voice joining Richard's in harmony. The other man spun around, still singing but so much softer when he saw Taron standing there, the blush on his cheeks as red as the freshly picked apples resting in a bowl on the kitchen counter top.

Taron grinned as he padded over to Richard, still singing - albeit a little more obnoxiously than he was previously. He could be quite a ham at times, especially when it came to showing off his impressive pipes. Reaching for Richard's hand, Taron spun him around and pulled him to his chest, his free arm finding purchase around his waist so that they could sway together.

"I guess that's why they call it the blues. Time on my hands could be time spent with you," he sang, the amusement on his face pale in comparison to the sheer embarrassment on Richard's. He indulged Taron though, just like a good mate would, dancing along with him in the middle of the kitchen. "Laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder under the covers." When Taron stepped back to twirl Richard he obliged, and their singing soon was replaced with harmonious laughter.

"G'mornin' to ye too, T," Richard said, his hands loosely draped around Taron's shoulders. 

"Sorry mate, couldn't resist. That was the best thing to make up to," he admitted. "Well that, and the smell of bacon."

"Bollocks! The bacon is gonna burn," Richard sputtered, quickly returning his attention to the stove to turn it off. He plated what he could of eggs and non-burnt bacon and handed it to Taron. "Sorry - hope it still tastes alright."

"Cheers." Taron kissed Richard's cheek and sat down at the breakfast bar to start eating. If the way he gulped down his food was any indication of how good it tasted, then Richard should've felt pretty proud of himself in that moment. "Anything on your mind for today? Should we take a quiet day in, or go out somewhere?"

Richard shrugged before taking a seat next to Taron. "Dunno. Seems like it might be warm enough to go for a walk on the beach, I reckon?"

"Yeah mate, absolutely. That's the sole reason I purchased this place. It's good to clear the head." It was also a good spot to do some important thinking, as Taron had discovered over the past few weeks while he pined pathetically over Richard. But he wasn't going to share those details with him, of course.

Richard nibbled at his bacon like it was a carrot, seeming to enjoy the crackling sound it made between his teeth. "Y'know, I really do appreciate that ye invited me to stay here for a while. Not just because of the break up, but because. Well, I missed ye'."

His words were sincere and they plucked at Taron's heart strings, and if they were cartoon characters there would be colorful hearts swarming around Taron's head in that moment. It wasn't that Richard was never _not_ nice to him, but moments where he shared true emotion were a rarity and Taron cherished every second of it. "I missed you too," he replied sweetly. "Do you know how long you'll be staying? Out of curiosity, of course. If it were up to me, id have you stay forever."

Richard shook his head. "Hadn't thought of it, really. Just say the word as soon as ye get tired of me, and I'll be out of yer hair."

"Shut it," Taron mumbled, reaching forward to knock his hand against Richard's shoulder. He gathered their empty plates and put them in the sink. "Let me change into something a little less casual and I'll meet you outside, yeah?" He marveled at how perfect Richard's hair was styled yet somehow at the same time looking natural, and only a little part of him was jealous at how Richard exuded sexuality even in a pair of khakis and a cardigan. 

"Sounds good, mate."

Taron tore through his closet, humming as he flipped through each hanger. He was building up the courage to tell Richard his feelings, but he insisted on looking good while doing so. The longer he waited to talk to him, the more he built up the moment in his head, and the anxiety was growing furiously. Finally, he landed on a pair of grey Armani trackies, a white shirt, and a grey cardigan. He slipped out of the back door to find Richard waiting for him by the shore, his pants rolled up to his knees and his feet bare in the water. He looked absolutely breathtaking, and it took Taron an extra beat to calm his fluttering heart.

"Look at you, already making yourself right at home," Taron quipped. He decided that he too should roll up his pants legs so that he could walk along the shore with Richard. "Bit chilly, innit?"

Richard nodded. "Yeah, but ye get used to it. Give it a go."

Taron dragged his feet in the water as they walked along the shore, every once in a while picking up a seashell that looked rather exceptional. The urge to hold Richard's hand every time their fingers brushed together was almost painful. He had to tell him now; he had to get the words out into the universe before he exploded. 

"Rich-" He rolled his eyes at how pathetic he sounded, his voice cracking like a pubescent teenager. It was obvious that Richard didn't hear him so he tried again, clearing his throat before speaking. "Richard."

"Hmm?" Richard spun around when he realized that Taron had stopped walking. His eyebrow arched as his curiosity piqued. "What is it, mate?"

Taron offered him a tight lipped, nervous smile. "Wanted to have a chat, if that's alright. About Emily. I wasn't, uh, entirely honest with you before when you asked about her."

Richard nodded, his lips puckering as he ogled him. His expression was the perfect mixture of concern and confusion. "Go on."

"We broke up," Taron choked out, his nerves strangling his vocal chords. "Well, she broke up with me on New Years Eve."

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that, mate. But New Years was a month ago - why didn't ye tell me before?"

Taron froze, feeling like he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He swallowed the unpleasant lump in this throat, trying to ease it away so that he could speak. Instead he felt stuck and at a loss for words. Frowning, he took the shell that was in his hand and tossed it far into the ocean, watching as it disappeared from sight.

"Taron."

Richard's voice snapped him back to reality. "I didn't know how to tell you," he admitted. "Because of the reasons," he cleared his throat again as he stumbled on his words. "The reason she ended it."

Richard squinted at Taron like he was a riddle to be figured out. "Which is what?"

Taron took a deep breath and exhaled all of his nervous energy. "Because I have feelings for you, Richard." The weight he'd been carrying around on his shoulders for weeks had dissipated and he felt light as a feather, that was until he saw the look on Richard's face. He couldn't place it really, because it looked like a juxtaposition between confusion and clarity.

_Taron took a deep breath as he looked at himself in his dressing room mirror. Not really one to consider himself a method actor, he wondered if the nerves he was channeling were his own or if they belonged to young Elton. As much mental planning and research he'd done to prepare for his first ever on camera sex scene, he felt vulnerable and more nervous than he should've._

_"Taron, ye in here still?" came Richard's voice from the other side of the trailer. "They're waitin' on ye."_

_"Yeah just - gimme a minute, wouldya?" Taron shouted, hoping Richard would hear him and give him some space, but within seconds Richard was behind him, his blue eyes sharp like lasers as they stared into Taron's set of green._

_"Nerves gotcha?"_

_Taron spun around in his chair and looked up at Richard, admiring how confidence seemed to radiate from his pores. Maybe if he stood close enough to him, he could absorb some of it. "Yeah, a wee bit," he admitted. They'd both agreed to be completely naked in the scene, sans any kind of modesty pouches in order to keep the scene as authentic as possible. It seemed like a good idea to Taron at the time, but now he was severely regretting it._

_Richard smiled and reached for Taron's hands, pulling him up from his chair into a standing position, all the while never letting his hands go. "Look, ye are an amazing actor. We are gonna do Elton proud with this scene. It'll be over before ye know it. Ye trust me, don't ye?"_

_Taron nodded and finally found the strength to smile. He did trust Richard, more than pretty much any mate he'd ever had. "I do."_

_"Good. If ye need a break, we'll take a break. But we gotta get out there before Dex murders us."_

_Taron chuckled. "I know, I know. You're right. Sorry, Dickie."_

_"How about a safe word? Or a code? If you're feelin' uneasy and need a break, how about ye say... 'let's go for a pint'?"_

_Taron laughed loudly, enough to make himself snort. "Right. Cheers. I like that idea."_

_"Good," Richard chirped, giving Taron's hands a squeeze before leading him to the door of his trailer. Taron never questioned their friendship before; they'd pretty much been inseparable since the day they met, but this moment had solidified everything for him. He realized then that he trusted Richard with everything, including his most guarded possession - his heart._

After minutes of them staring at each other silently, Taron rubbed his face with his palms, feeling slightly befuddled from the lack of response from Richard. "For the love of God Richard, say something please!"

"Right, sorry," he mumbled, clearing his throat. "For how long?"

Taron shrugged, unable to answer the question because he didn't really know. It could have been forever even though he'd just discovered it. "Does it matter?"

Richard stepped closer, drawing in the gap between them, gently placing his hands on Taron's shoulders. "I love ye mate, I do. But don't ye think that maybe what yer feeling is just residual emotions from filming?"

Taron squinted at Richard, disbelieving of the words coming out of his mouth. This was not at all how he expected, or hoped, this conversation would go. "I think you need to give me a little more credit than that, Dickie."

"But ye don't like men," Richard pointed out. "How can ye feel-"

"To be fair, I never said I didn't like men. I said I wasn't gay," Taron said defensively as he held up a finger to prove his point. He hated labels because they always seemed more decisive than the were uniting, and this was the prime example of that.

"C'mon mate, don't be cross with me."

Even if he wanted to be mad, it was impossible to do so with the way Richard was looking at him, like a lost puppy missing its owner. "I'm not mad at you," he simply stated, ignoring whatever emotions were bubbling inside him. It was hard to decipher if it was sadness, pity, or disappointment.

Richard's lips were curved south into the tiniest of frowns, his eyebrows knitted with concern in the middle of his forehead. "I'm sorry, Taron," he said quietly, barely audible over the roaring waves.

"Hey, it's fine," he replied defensively, raising his arms up to knock Richard's hands off his shoulders. "Just forget I said anything, alright? Fancy some lunch?" The last thing Taron wanted to do was forget it, but his friendship with Richard was more important to him than really anything, so for that, he'd have to try to forget it.

Richard scratched the back of his neck as he contemplated Taron's offer. "I think I need to take a bit of a nap. Jet lag seems to be catching up to me. Why don't we meet up for dinner?"

Taron was not surprised in the least that Richard needed his space, even if his excuse was a blatant lie, but he couldn't fault him for that. As much as he wanted Richard to stay with him and chat it out, he had to respect his boundaries. He'd dropped a hypothetical bomb on him and he needed time to process alone. "Of course. Get some rest, love." 

When Richard leaned in to kiss Taron's cheek before leaving, he felt his stomach clench with anguish. 

\---

Taron had all afternoon to wallow in his pity, his confusion, or whatever else it could be defined as. Eventually he decided to let it go and pretend it didn't even happen; at this point he figured that denial of his feelings was better than rejection. He agreed to himself to never bring it up again knowing that it was highly unlikely that Richard would ever bring it up either. Taron was certain that Richard deliberately spent the afternoon holed up in the guest room pretending to sleep, avoiding the situation to the fullest. Confrontation wasn't his strong suit because he was too much of a people pleaser. His kindness was one of the things that Taron loved about him.

By the time five o'clock rolled around, Taron figured he may as well start dinner for himself and hope that Richard would soon join him. Not wanting delicious food to go to waste, he planned to cook the surf and turf that he'd promised Richard the previous day. Half an hour later as Taron was setting the table and pouring himself a glass of wine, Richard emerged from the bedroom.

"Hey," Richard greeted him, his voice tentative like he was afraid to see Taron's reaction.

"'ello," Taron replied, offering Richard a small smile. The tension between them was more awkward that he'd been hoping for. Despite that, Richard looked breath taking - mussed hair, eyes bright and perky, wrinkled clothes - maybe he had been sleeping after all. "Made surf and turf with potatoes. Hope you're hungry."

Richard matched Taron's smile as he walked over to him, his hand gently reaching for Taron's forearm. The touch made his skin tingle. "I'm quite hungry. Can I help ye with anything?"

"Nope," Taron shook his head. "It's all ready. Have a seat." When Taron brought Richard's plate over and put it in front of him, he was stopped by a strong hand around his wrist.

"Hey," Richard said again, a little more firm this time. "I'm sorry about earlier. I was a right git and ye didn't deserve it."

Taron's eyes met Richard's and after a moment of just looking at each other he replied, "I appreciate the apology. I understood where you were coming from, but I can't say it didn't bruise my feelings a bit."

Richard turned in his chair to face Taron properly, moving his grip from his wrist to his hand. "It freaked me out a bit, yunno? I always thought of ye as a straight bloke, so I put ye in my 'never more than a mate' box. It didn't occur to me that ye could... well ye know. Have feelings for me."

Taron chuckled, amused by the difficulty at which Richard was articulating his feelings. He took a seat next to him at the table and reluctantly dropped his hand in order to reach for his wine glass. "I know. But I think it's time to take me out of that box, love." 

Richard raised his glass and clinked it against Taron's. "To love and friendship. Or is that too cliche?" he laughed. "Cheers to... being who ye are, regardless of labels."

"I'll cheers to that," Taron laughed too, before clinking together their glasses. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders - maybe everything was going to be okay in the end.

Two hours and two bottles of wine later, they found themselves on the couch watching the first few episodes of Bodyguard. "I cannot believe ye still haven't seen this!" Richard teased him. "I won a bloody award for it and that still didn't interest ye in watching it?"

Taron laughed hard enough to omit a drunken snort. "Bugger off, I've been busy!" He batted Richard's hand away and poured himself another glass of wine. "I've gotta say, you do a lot of smoldering in this show. Did your jaw hurt after filming wrapped?"

"I know yer being an arse, but yer not the first person to say that to me," Richard admitted, his lips puckering into the most manly pout Taron had ever seen. "It was harder than ye think, all that nonverbal acting."

"I know, I was just being cheeky. Your acting is brilliant, you know that. Honestly." He held up his half empty wine glass for emphasis. After a few minutes of silence between them, he spoke up again. "Do you remember our first day of filming... you know, the big scene?"

"Of course I do."

"I think that was the start to my feelings for you," Taron whispered, his entire demeanor taking a 180 from tipsy to serious. Although, the alcohol was certainly making it easier for him to spill the secrets of his heart. "Not because of the naked snogging, mind you."

"I was just gonna say-"

"Shut it, I'm not done talking." Taron smirked and bumped his elbow against Richard's. "You were so utterly comforting. I barely really even knew you, and I trusted you. You helped me relax and find the confidence I needed to act through the scene, let alone be completely naked in front of thirty people."

Richard shrugged, his own self consciousness overtaking him. "I didn't want ye to be so nervous. I wanted ye to know how truly brilliant of an actor ye are. Ye shouldn't doubt yourself so much."

Their eyes met in a longing gaze and Taron could feel his heart thrum faster in his chest. Richard was looking at him with starved, dreamy blue eyes. The fight to ignore his inner urges to kiss his friend was getting more difficult by the second. As a bargain, he gave himself permission to reach up and comb his fingers through Richard's hair, letting them tangle in the soft ringlets. 

"I know you're a good bloke and a solid mate, but you can't say stuff like that to me right now," Taron whispered. He wanted desperately to ask _do you like me too_ like some kind of schoolboy, but luckily he still had enough control over his speaking capabilities. 

Richard's eyes scoped out Taron's face from hair to chin. His arm was resting along the back of the couch, his fingers lightly skirting the nape of Taron's neck. "How pissed are you right now, T?"

Taron huffed and squinted at Richard, perplexed. "Not at all, mate. Maybe a little tipsy but-"

He was cut off by Richard's lips against his own; those soft, pillowy lips that felt nothing short of perfect. At first he was so stunned that he'd forgotten to breathe, so he exhaled sharply against Richard's mouth before his lips moved, slow and tentative with Richard's. They'd obviously kissed hundreds of time before, but never as gentle and loving. Never like _this._

His hand was still knotted in Richard's curls, letting the soft strands slip between his fingers with each stroke. He felt, tasted, and even smelled like Heaven. Richard brought his hand up to Taron's face, cupping his chiseled jawline in his palm, the pad of his thumb drifting over the arch of his cheekbone. It was a sweet gesture that made him feel like literal putty in Richard's hands.

They pulled away amicably, their chests rising and falling quickly as they gasped for the normal amount of oxygen. Taron finally got the courage to open his eyes and he immediately grinned at the way Richard's lips looked pink and kiss swollen. It was a sight to see, one that he hoped his eyes could memorize forever.

"You gave me all that trouble earlier only to snog me a few hours later? You prat!" Taron was suddenly laughing as the thought occurred to him.

"I just wanted to make sure that ye actually liked me, is all," Richard specified. "Been wanting to give ye a proper snog for months-"

Taron grunted at Richard's words and fell back against the arm of the couch quite dramatically. "You mean we could have been snogging for bloody _months?_ " Richard simply shrugged and offered Taron that damn cheeky grin of is. "Well then, we've got a lot of time to make up for, don't we?" He grasped Richard's shirt and pulled him closer till he was leaning flush against his chest, the sudden action making Richard laugh. "Kiss me, you fool."

Richard obliged without question and closed the gap between their lips. The kiss quickly transformed into a slightly sloppy, open mouthed kiss, and Taron found that he didn't mind at all. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever just made out with someone and actually enjoyed it. 

Their hands roamed each other's bodies over the safety of their clothing. It was, for lack of a better term, innocent - even though Taron was becoming incredibly turned on as the moments passed. It would have been easy to take this to the next level, but the romantic in Taron's head told him that sex with Richard would be worth the wait.

Taron curled his legs around Richard's to draw him near, his left hand never leaving the comfort of his smooth curls. Each time he gently tugged on Richard's hair he could feel him grinning against his lips, a tell-tale sign that he was enjoying it. Richard's hands were on Taron's biceps and then soon around his neck, lightly stroking the prickly skin along his jawline. 

Richard pulled away just enough press their foreheads together and nuzzle Taron's nose in an affectionate gesture that gave him goosebumps. Everything Richard did drove him crazy, and it really wasn't fair.

"I want to take ye to bed," Richard whispered, and the strong, sultry Scottish inflection in his voice made Taron's cock jump in his trackies.

Taron pulled back to gain enough distance to look Richard square in the eye. "I want it too," he whispered, "but I've never, yunno-" He struggled with forming the correct words to say _I've never been with a man before._ Sure he'd fooled around with them plenty, but never all the way. Never did he really give it a second thought, at least until Richard came into his life.

"Ah, right. It's alright, T," he replied reassuringly, his right hand moving from Taron's jaw to around the back of his head. "We can take it slow."

"I'm not saying I don't want to," Taron blurted out quickly. "Because fuck, I do." Richard was smirking at him again and Taron was getting distracted, so he covered Richard's mouth with his hand so that he can continue talking without being disturbed by his winning smile. "I'd just like to do it when I haven't pounded back an entire bottle of wine."

Richard, still grinning, chuckled against Taron's hand and nodded. When Taron removed his hand from Richard's mouth, he was quick to press their lips together again, twice as hungry and full of want as their previous kisses. "We'll take it slow," Richard muttered, never withdrawing his lips. All of Taron's energy was going into snogging Richard there on his couch, hard enough to where he could barely breathe, but if he was going to die then his would be the way he'd want to go.

_Taron chewed on the inside of his cheek as Richard, who was straddling his thighs, hurriedly worked to unbuckle his belt. His heart was thumping radically against his rib cage, the perfect blend of nerves and excitement coursing through his veins. Richard rolled to the side and they undressed themselves in haste, and before Taron could even think about how awkward and exposed he felt, Richard was on top of him again, kissing him, his hands on his face and in his hair._

_"Ye alright?" Richard whispered into Taron's ear as quietly as possible so that the microphone boom couldn't detect it. He nuzzled Taron's neck and pressed a kiss there to keep the scene in motion._

_Taron's face was in view so he couldn't verbally respond - instead he reached for Richard's neck and gave it a squeeze before they were directed to kiss once more. Richard was smiling against his lips, making Taron feel protected and as light as a feather. When Dexter directed Taron to roll on top of Richard he did so with renewed confidence. It was surreal, feeling Richard's legs wrapping around him, bringing their nude bodies even against one another. He’d never quite felt something like this before, and all his efforts went into paying attention to the scene at hand._

_Dexter called "CUT" and announced that they were wrapped up for the night, and the production assistants quickly brought over two plush robes for the both of them to cover up with. Taron was blushing profusely at the sheer amount of compliments coming his way from the team._

_When he turned to look at Richard, he found the man grinning at him with his arms crossed smugly against his chest. "Told ye everything would turn out alright."_

_"Yeah, yeah. I think I'm ready for that pint now," Taron said, making them both laugh loudly._

\---

Taron awoke the following morning to find Richard spooning him, one arm draped over his waist and the other on the pillow above his head. He squinted his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the natural light in the room, and he grunted. His head was pounding, a sure sign that he'd consumed far too much wine the night before, but the need to get up and pop an Asprin was not as great as the need to stay in his cocoon with Richard. 

They were both fully clothed and cozied up to one another, and Taron couldn't remember the last time he'd fallen asleep cuddling someone. The sweet fragrance of Richard's cologne was still present, sending Taron into a tizzy even before he rolled over to look at him. He managed to do so without waking him, so Taron leaned in and peppered soft kisses along the expanse of Richard's neck and along the collar of his tee shirt.

"G'mornin'," Richard said without even opening his eyes, although he did tilt his head back to welcome the attention to his neck. 

"Hi," Taron replied, far too enthusiastic for someone who'd just woken up after a night of drinking. "I like waking up to you wrapped around me."

"Mhm," Richard grunted sleepily, his hand slipping under the hem of Taron's shirt to stroke his side, eyes still closed.

Taron kissed a trail up the side of Richard's neck to the back of his ear, pressing in further to him, close enough to feel his morning erection against his hip. "Dickie?"

"Hm?" Richard peered down at Taron with one eye open.

"I want to suck you off."

Both of Richard's eyes suddenly shot open, and his body jolted. "Ye do?"

"Yeah, would that be alright?" He didn't wait for Richard's response before he began palming him through his cotton trousers. Just when Taron had thought he was fully erect, he felt him harden further at his touch.

Richard arched into Taron's palm. "That's an offer I can't say no to."

"Good."

Taron nudged Richard onto his back and settled between his legs. He eyed the delicious pop-up tent in his trousers before his mouth pressed against it, cotton material and all. Richard groaned and rubbed his eyes as if he was trying to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. Crawling further North, Taron pushed Richard's shirt up his midsection so that he could kiss and lick at the ridges of muscle over his abdomen. He flicked his tongue against Richard's navel while his hands worked and pushing the bothersome fabric down his hips and legs.

"Ye done this before, mate?"

Smirking, Taron sat back on his knees and took Richard's impressive length in his hand, stroking him at a teasingly slow pace. "What do you think?"

Richard's eyes narrowed as he glared at Taron, blue eyes full of lust. "I think ye better stop teasing me and suck my cock."

Taron wanted to be an arse and argue with Richard, but his pathetic begging was far too cute to ignore. "Whatever Dickie wants, Dickie gets," he said playfully before dipping his neck so that he could lick a stripe up Richard's cock from base to tip. He lapped at the head, cleaning up the precome that had settled there. Richard's taste was salty but pleasant, one that Taron looked forward to getting more of as soon as possible.

He wrapped his lips around Richard and slowly took him in inch by inch, hollowing his cheeks to try to accommodate his incredible size. Try as he might, he wasn't able to take him all in without gagging, so he had to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock and pump him in time with the motions of his mouth. Taron's eyes met Richard's when his hand gently caressed his cheek before sliding around to the back of his head. For a fleeting moment he wished that he hadn't shaved his head after filming so that Richard could have something more to grab onto. 

"Yer doin' so good, Taron," Richard purred. The sound of his thick accent and the way he said Taron's name was almost enough to make him come right there in his trousers. He moaned around Richard's cock, soliciting a moan from him as well, followed by an upward thrust of his hips. He hadn't been prepared for that and he choked a little, but he was determined to be ready for it the next time. Taron hollowed his cheeks and ran his tongue across the underside of Richard's cock, the nails on his right hand scratching a light pink trail along the pale expanse of Richard's soft inner thigh. 

Richard thrust his hips forward again and this time Taron was prepared, relaxing his throat in an effort to take in more of Richard's remarkable length. The feeling of Richard's hand gripping the back of his head as he fucked his mouth made him groan in ecstasy, and he couldn't resist reaching into his trousers to grip his own neglected cock, pumping furiously to catch up to him. He wanted desperately to taste more of Richard and make his toes curl, so he gently palmed at Richard's balls, gripping them with just enough strength to make his cock jump in his mouth.

"S-so close," Richard whispered, and when Taron squeezed his balls again he moaned a little louder as his body tensed up, "I'm coming!"

Taron pinned Richard's hips to the bed with his free hand, the other hand still frantically working at his own erection. He clenched his mouth around Richard, sucking him hard until he tasted that familiar salty flavor on his tongue, savoring every drop of it until Richard was completely spent. Taron withdrew with a desperate moan, his entire body aching with the need to get off immediately. Richard noticed this and sat up, connecting his lips with Taron in a hungry kiss, devouring his mouth and tasting the remnants of himself there as his hands pushed the fabric of Taron's trousers down his hips. Taron moaned into Richard's open mouth as he came between them, shooting his load all over Richard's hips and thighs.

As usual, Richard was grinning against Taron's lips as he cupped his face, digging his fingernails into the back of his neck. "That was bloody hot," he muttered.

Taron grunted in agreement and collapsed onto Richard, making him tumble backwards against the pillows. His trackies were pooled around his knees and their tee shirts were covered in bodily fluids - the mere thought of all of that making Taron laugh as he came down from his post-orgasmic high. "It was, but we're quite the mess. Look at us." 

Richard laughed too, as he eyed them and the way their bodies were essentially stuck together. "Yer right. How's about a shower?"

"Sounds lovely. C'mon then." Taron peeled himself off of Richard and undressed, tossing his soiled clothes into the bin across the room. Then he watched Richard undress, grinning proudly the entire time, enjoying his own personal show. He was still in disbelief that this was all happening; that Richard liked him too, and that they'd just done _that_ together. He was living out a real-life fantasy, one that he'd dreamt up only a few weeks prior.

The shower water was hot and relaxing, but all that didn't compare to the feeling of Richard's soapy hands cascading down his slick body, covering every centimeter of flesh he could reach. Taron was without a doubt turned on by the tenderness in Richard's touch, but the hopeless romantic in him had the controls of his heart, and he was swooning. Richard kissed him as he lathered the shampoo in his curls, toying with the ends of the ringlets before rinsing them out. 

"Yer beautiful," Richard's words shook Taron out of his thoughts. He looked at him and smiled, the usual tint of pink coming to the surface of his cheeks.

"Shut it," he said softly, the meaning behind his words playful. He didn't always take kindly to compliments about his body. It had been a lifelong struggle to accept his broad hips and round stomach. 

"I mean it," Richard said with more purpose, his eyes lasering holes into Taron's. Taron nodded and smiled, still feeling awkward at the words of affirmation, but he let those go. If the most gorgeous man on the planet wanted to compliment him, then he very well should accept that compliment, shouldn't he?

Richard took a few steps forward, backing Taron against the shower wall, making him shiver at the contrast of the cold tile on his warm skin. He kissed him slow and deep, and if Taron's arms hadn't hooked around Richard's neck he was sure that his knees would have buckled. Richard had that effect over him on his worst days, but coupling that with the perfect kiss? Taron was practically done for.

He turned off the faucet and pushed open the shower curtain, his lips never leaving Taron's. Somehow, even with his eyes closed, he knew his way around Taron's bathroom, reaching for a dry bath towel which he wrapped around Taron's shoulders. He finally withdrew his lips and grabbed his own towel, drying his hair before wrapping it around his waist. Taron, still in the shower, watched Richard dry off like it was some kind of fascinating drama on the telly, one that he wanted to binge watch for eternity. 

"What?" Richard looked over to Taron, arching his eyebrow curiously.

Taron shook his head and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off before moving over to the sink to brush his teeth. "Nothing. Was just thinking about breakfast. Fancy an omelet?"

Richard joined Taron at the sink and grabbed the toothpaste. "Sure. But only if ye let me help this time. I can cook, yunno. Don't want ye to think that I can't pull my weight around here."

"Right," Taron chuckled. "Of course. You can make the omelets while I make the bacon. Can't have you burning it again this time, Old Fruit."

Richard, with his toothbrush lodged in his mouth, mumbled something about Taron being distracting, and all Taron could do was grin.

After they changed into appropriate day wear - jeans, tees and cardigans - they headed into the kitchen for breakfast. 

"I'm so thankful you're here," Taron said as he pulled the eggs and bacon from the fridge. "I was getting so lonely here being by myself that I honestly considered getting a cat for a companion. I even once considered adopting a dog." Everyone knew, even Richard, that Taron was not fond of dogs, so to contemplate adopting one was a big sign of just how lonely Taron had been feeling.

"Wow," Richard mumbled, and Taron could tell that he was holding back a laugh. "That's pretty serious. Glad I showed up to rescue ye from getting a _dog._ "

Taron rolled his eyes and shoved the carton of eggs in his hands. "Why don't you shut that pretty mouth of yours and make us some omelets."

Richard, still grinning, obliged. He heated a skillet with a dollop of butter, eventually incorporating eggs, cheese, and ham into the pan. He jumped a little when his mobile went off, loud and vibrating in his pocket. "Hm," he hummed as he read over what appeared to be a text message. 

Taron was watching his face, noticing his change in expression. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he also didn't want to pry if Richard wasn't willing to share the details.

"Bacon?" he offered, holding up a piece of the crispy meat that he'd just pulled from the pan to cool.

"Absolutely," Richard replied, biting off a large chunk of the strip and teasingly flicking his tongue against Taron's finger tips, making him groan. "Sorry for the interruption. It was my agent. He's got a couple of auditions lined up for me."

"That's great! Here in L.A. I'd assume? Good thing you're here already, huh?"

Richard shook his head, his eyes falling to the second omelet he was making. "No, uh. In London. I've got to fly back tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" Taron couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice even if he tried. After all, they'd only spent a couple of days together after spending much longer than that apart. Plus, they'd _just_ connected, and the greedy part of Taron wasn't willing to give Richard up so easily. 

Learning from his mistake last time, Richard turned off the stove so that he could provide his full, undivided attention to Taron. He stepped closer to him and curled his arms around his waist, pulling him into his chest. "Why don't ye come with me? My place is big enough for both of us. Ye could visit yer mates and yer family while I have my auditions. What do ye say?"

Taron's face contorted into something that ironically resembled both a smile and a frown. He was quiet pleased at the offer, still unbelieving that _Richard Madden, Scot God_ wanted little ol' him to stay with him in his flat. "I'd love to, you know that love," Taron said, "but I've got some business in L.A. that I need to take care of as well. I'm so behind reading all of the scripts I've been sent," he motioned his head to the stack of white papers on the dining room table. Ever since he wrapped up Rocketman, the audition requests were substantial and scripts were showing up at his condo on a fairly steady basis. 

Richard glanced over his shoulder at the scripts, pausing thoughtfully for a beat or two before he turned back to Taron. "Maybe ye could fly out when yer done?"

Taron nodded eagerly, his hands running up and down Richard's arms until they settled on his shoulders. "Brilliant idea mate, yes. I don't think I've ever had more incentive to read scripts before," he laughed at the truth behind his words. Even when he was first starting out in his career and begging for his agent to find him auditions, he still hadn't been as eager to read numerous amounts of scripts as he was in this exact moment.

"Good. I can't wait," Richard murmured just moments before kissing Taron, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. Taron groaned and flicked his tongue out, tasting a delicious blend of Richard and bacon. "Think we have some time to snog before the food gets cold?"

Taron laughed and pushed at Richard's chest, gaining enough distance to wiggle out of his arms. "We've got all day to snog. Plus, I'm going to need some sustenance before I loose any more bodily fluids," he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at Richard, earning himself a slap on the arse.

While he wasn't exactly thrilled that Richard was leaving and spending an undetermined amount of time away from him, he was still looking forward to the future - a future that included adventures with this gorgeous, kind man. In just a few months they'd embark on the Rocketman press tour, which promised a chance for them to be together for an entire month without auditions getting in the way.

\---

It took about a month for Taron to be able to fly out to London to be with Richard, much to his chagrin. Even though he finished reading through his scripts (thankfully there were actually more than a few that had value), he had other business to attend to before hopping on a ten hour flight across the world. 

By the time he exited the airplane and grabbed his luggage, he was so keyed up that he felt like he might literally pounce on Richard once given the chance. Luckily, due to Richard's schedule, he didn't have time to pick Taron up from the airport, so he ordered him a car. This gave Taron enough time to pull himself together and talk himself into acting like a normal human being once he finally saw Richard. Now wasn't the time to embarrass himself - he had forever to do that.

The drive to Richard's flat wasn't long, but in so many ways it felt like an eternity to Taron. He couldn't wait to hug Richard, smell his cologne, run his fingers through his curls, and stare into those baby blues. He knew that he was pathetically head-over-heels for his friend, but he didn't care, because life was too damn short to not enjoy every minute of it.

Taron jogged up the steps to Richard's door and knocked three times, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Richard answered almost immediately, wearing dark wash jeans and a navy long-sleeved shirt that was the perfect shade in contrast to his icy blue eyes.

"Taron!" Richard cheered as he swung the door open. His arms flew open immediately, beckoning Taron into them. Without a second thought, Taron shoved his bags to the ground and welcomed the hug, his arms wrapping tightly around Richard's lithe frame. He allowed himself a moment of weakness and nuzzled Richard's neck, breathing him in as if he were his only life force.

"God, I've missed you," Taron mumbled against Richard's pale flesh. It was then that he realized he'd forgotten everything he'd told himself not to do on the drive back from the airport. Oh well.

"I've missed ye too, mate," Richard chuckled. "C'mon inside or ye'll catch a cold."

Richard's flat was warm, clean, and inviting just like him. Taron hung up his leather jacket in the foyer before following him into the kitchen where he'd prepared them a pot of tea. "Your place is lovely," he said as he took a seat at the table, his eyes taking in the scenery around him.

"Thank ye! I wish ye could have visited sooner, but I'm glad ye made it here nonetheless. I just did some redecorating in the guest room, so I'm excited to show ye that later."

Taron smiled around the brim of his tea cup. Of course they'd kept in contact over the past month while they were apart, but the time difference made it difficult to connect like he had really wanted to. He was so thankful that they were finally together, and he had no intentions of leaving unless Richard kicked his arse out.

"How has auditioning been going for you? I had a few of my own the past two weeks, and I think I've got a good shot for at least one of 'em."

Richard was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the cupboards sipping his tea. He looked completely gorgeous standing there doing nothing at all except just being. "Going well, mate. Did a few interviews and photo shoots while I've been here, too. Definitely been keeping busy."

"I know how that goes," Taron replied, smiling. He then fell silent, absently sipping at his tea as he eyed Richard up and down like a treat, his jaw clenching as his mouth watered. How does one 'take it slow' in a relationship where you spend weeks, if not months apart?

Richard put down his cup so that he could cross his arms over his chest. "What is it, T?" he inquired, his eyebrow arched high up on his forehead. Taron couldn't hold back a small giggle at his expression.

"M'sorry Dickie. You just look so bloody handsome... and I've missed you... and seeing you has got me all twisted up inside." Taron wondered for a brief moment if he really should have shared all of that, but when Richard chewed his lip, a tell-tale sign that he was thinking deeply about something, he was glad that he said it.

"Come here," Richard demanded, his voice soft yet firm. Taron obliged without the slightest bit of doubt, his feet taking him over to Richard on their own accord, standing in front of him with their chests lightly pressed against one another. He could feel his mouth water again as he thought about the last time they were together; how Richard tasted in his mouth, how he felt under his fingertips, how he sounded when he came.

Richard said nothing else and let his hands do the talking. They roamed all over Taron's body, from his arms to his stomach, to his chest and then around the back of his neck where his fingertips found their home at the base of his hairline. Taron sighed softly, his eyes slipping closed when Richard leaned in to kiss him soft and loving. They kissed slow but with purpose, and when Taron pressed further into Richard's body he could feel the beginning of an erection pressing up against his hip.

"I know that last time I said 'no', but I'm ready now. Take me to bed, Richard," Taron requested with more assertiveness in his voice than he could ever remember using. This seemed to stun Richard, who stared at him with a curious look and a devious smile. Not a man to ever be asked twice, Richard took Taron's hand and led him towards his bedroom.

They undressed each other urgently, their lips only leaving the comfort of each other's to pull their shirts over their heads. Taron fell backwards onto the plush bed and Richard followed suit, climbing on top of him, hips grinding down against him. Taron's skin prickled in anticipation of what was to come, and he didn't know how much longer he could wait for it without begging.

Any nerves that Taron had felt simply washed away, replaced with animalistic lust for the man on top of him. For two whole months he'd been thinking about this moment, the one where he'd finally get to feel Richard inside of him, writhing against him because he wanted to, not because it was for the cameras. The side of Taron's foot ran up and down Richard's calf, enjoying the way their kisses and touches didn't feel rushed, like all the time in the universe was for them and them alone.

Richard kissed a trail down Taron's smooth chest, stopping to pinch each nipple between his teeth before venturing further down his stomach, hovering right above the small patch of dark hair at his pelvis. "Turn over," Richard demanded, Taron practically keening at the heat behind his words.

Taron's thighs trembled in anticipation as he rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could glance over his shoulder at Richard. He wanted to watch him, fascinated by literally everything he did. He felt Richard kick his knees apart and settle between them, Taron's eyes popping open in sheer surprise when he lost sight of Richard, who had disappeared behind him. 

"Fuck!" Taron cried, his voice dripping with shock and pleasure as Richard ran his tongue down the curve of his arse.

"I hope ye don't mind," Richard mumbled as he nipped at the thick, white flesh of Taron's left arsecheek. "I've wanted to taste this perfect arse since the day I met ye."

"Oh fuck," Taron whispered, thighs trembling again at Richard's words. He lifted his hips to give Richard more access, silently begging him for more.

"Good boy," Richard purred as he went in for another round, this time flicking his tongue repeatedly over Taron's entrance. It felt warm, wet, and unexpectedly lovely. Over his years in the spotlight, Taron had received many compliments on the size of his backside, but never did he imagine someone wanting to do this to him, and fuck he wish he had done this sooner. Richard seemed to be enjoying himself just as much as Taron, moaning against him as he lapped at his hole.

"God, you're gonna make me come if you don't stop, Richard," Taron whined, his face half-buried in the crook of his arm. The way his dick was rubbing against the bed made for a delicious friction which, in combination with Richard's tongue, was threatening to send him over the edge.

Richard pulled away and sat on his knees, giving Taron's arse a slap that send a loud crack through the room. "Not done yet. It'll hurt if we try it now."

"I know that," Taron confirmed, "but I need you to hurry up and do it already before I explode."

Taron didn't have to look at Richard to know that he was smirking, satisfied at how Taron was begging and practically writing beneath him. He heard Richard rummaging through a drawer and then he felt it, the unmistakable feeling of cold lubricant dripping down the crack of his arse. He hissed and bucked his hips backward, giving Richard more access to slip his middle finger into him, past the tight ring of muscle.

"T, have ye ever...?" Richard trailed off, working his finger in and out of Taron until he was satisfied with the result. 

"Kinda," Taron muttered, holding back a moan. "I mean, sometimes when I wank I use a dildo. But never, yunno. A real life one." 

"Mhm." Richard chuckled and hummed before adding a second finger, scissoring Taron's insides. When he withdrew again, Taron could hear him tearing open a condom package.

"Richard?"

"Yeah babe?"

Out of everything they'd done so far that night, the sweet nickname was what made Taron blush. He really had it bad for the older man. "I want to be on top."

Richard didn't reply, but Taron felt him move away from between his legs and instead settle against the headboard, pillows fluffed up behind him. Taron was frozen stiff as he looked at Richard, taking in his nude form and the stiff member that was aching to be touched. He felt his own cock twitch at the sight, prompting him to sit up and crawl onto Richard's lap.

With shaky hands he grabbed the headboard behind Richard's head, his heart drumming in his chest so quickly that he was certain Richard could hear it too. The nerves were starting to set in, but he trusted this man more than anyone else, knowing he'd never intentionally hurt him.

Richard steadied his cock so that Taron could ease himself onto it, his mouth ajar and eyes knitted in his forehead as his body adjusted to the first few inches. "Yer doin' so good," Richard whispered to him, leaning up to kiss him with purpose, giving Taron enough confidence to relax and push the rest of Richard's length inside him.

Taron moaned and leaned forward to press his forehead against Richard's, sliding his hands down his chest to tangle in the curly dark chest hairs that lived there. "Fuck, this is beyond incredible," he whimpered, no longer caring how desperate and needy he sounded.

"Yer so tight," Richard groaned in a way that made Taron's dick throb even harder. He grabbed Taron's hips and guided him back and forth, coaxing him to move. He rocked his hips slowly, his fingernails digging into Richard's chest as he continued to adjust to his incredible size.

"I've wanted this for so long," Taron whispered. "Wanked off to this so many times the past two months. You drive me so crazy, Dickie, yunno that?"

Richard was biting the side of his bottom lip and the utter beauty of it made him feel weak. "I've thought about this too. Never imagined ye'd feel so Goddamn good." His accent was thicker than normal, full of lust and barely intelligible. It was hot as Hell and it made Taron rock his hips faster, hard enough for the masochist in him to enjoy the level of pain. He grabbed at the headboard again, needing to anchor himself as he lifted off of Richard and then slammed back down, causing a cry to erupt from both of their mouths. It was the most beautiful melody he'd ever sang in his life. 

Before Taron could beg for it, Richard had grabbed his cock tight in his fist and dug his thumb into the slit, swirling the precome around his sensitive skin. This reduced him to mere whimpers, and then he kissed Richard forcefully, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. He could feel the heat build up within him and he knew that he couldn't last much longer.

"Richard," he whispered, dropping his forehead to rest against Richard's, wanting to see the look on his face as he came inside him.

"S'alright, Taron, come for me," he encouraged, stroking Taron's sweat drenched hair with his free hand. "Wanna feel ye."

Those words sent Taron over the edge and he came, harder than he'd ever had, shooting his load all over Richard's stomach and chest. His hips faltered for a brief moment but then he continued his pace, gagging for Richard to come just as hard.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," Taron cried out when Richard took over, grabbing his hips roughly so that he could trust up into them. He knew he'd be sore tomorrow but it would be more than worth it.

"Oh," Richard moaned as he came mere moments later. Taron fell limp against his chest, his sweaty forehead pressing against the slippery skin of Richard's shoulder. Their chests were rising and falling with such intensity that Taron wasn't sure if there was enough oxygen in the room for the both of them.

They laid there for a while, tenderly stroking each other's arms as their breathing settled. Finally, Taron lifted himself off of Richard and rolled onto his back, feeling completely spent and so fucking happy.

Richard disposed of the condom and cleaned himself off before joining Taron in bed, pulling the duvet over them. Taron just watched him, the silence that lingered between them more comforting than it was awkward. Richard's eyes lifted to meet Taron's and Taron found himself blushing as he played back the past few hours, suddenly feeling a little shy and exposed.

"I," he cleared his throat. "Em. Wow." Taron chuckled at his futile attempt to form a coherent thought. Richard was smirking at him, eyebrow arched as he laid on his side facing Taron. Sometimes Taron hated the way Richard looked at him so deeply, making him feel studied and stripped of all of his defenses.

"Wow indeed," Richard cooed, nodding. He pressed his lips to Taron's shoulder and flung an arm over his chest like he was a body pillow. "I know yer knew to this but I hope ye understand that what we just shared was bloody mind blowing. Fuck T, it's like we were made to share that together."

Taron smiled, feeling relief at Richard's words. Richard was far more experienced than he was so if he felt it too, then it must have meant that what they shared was real and not just the result of two months of endless pining over his friend.

"So does that mean you'll have me?" Taron asked, hopeful that he didn't sound too clingy. "Because I'll be honest, I don't want to do that with anyone else. Haven't wanted to do that with anyone else for bloody months."

"Are ye asking me to go steady with ye, Taron Egerton?"

Taron laughed as he rolled over onto his side so that they could be face to face, nose brushing against nose. "I'd say so." He felt empty when Richard wiggled out of his arms to sit up against the pillows, chewing the side of his bottom lip pensively. "What is it?" Taron asked feebly. He knew he probably sounded downright pitiful but he couldn't help it - he always wore his heart on his sleeve.

"Ye sure ye want this? _Really_ want this? Because we've got a good thing goin' here - our friendship, yunno? And I don't want to chance losing ye if yer not one hundred percent sure ye want this."

Taron smiled sadly, understanding then what Richard meant. It was unusual to see him with his defenses down but he had to admit that self conscious, cautious Richard was just as beautiful as stoic, confident Richard. Taron sat up and joined him at his side, taking one of his hands to comfort him. "I am one hundred percent sure that I want this. I know it will be hard sometimes, but I want it more than I've ever wanted anything. Who better to be with than my best mate?"

"So we're doing this then," Richard nodded emphatically like he was answering his own question. "We're doing this."

Taron chuckled and leaned in to steal a quick yet tender snog. "We're doing this."

_Taron had spent the past three days at Abbey Road, which was surely a dream come true for him, one new thing that he could check of his Bucket List. He'd been in plenty of recording studios in his time, but never one with such an incredible history, and never with friends like Dexter Fletcher and Elton John observing him._

_He was told that he'd finally get to meet Richard Madden today, after months and months of his mates trying to connect him with the older man. The timing was never perfect, just as was expected from two in-demand actors. Taron had to admit that he was thrilled when he heard Richard got cast as John Reid, as he'd always admired his work._

 _"Taron, c'mon out of the booth. Richard's just arrived," Dexter called from behind the glass._

_He hung his headphones on the rack inside the booth and made his way to the door, and that's when he saw him. Richard Madden, Scot God, clad in jeans and a blue and brown shirt - clothes that didn't look expensive yet he knew really were. His hair was natural, curls hanging loose on his forehead and his scruff hadn't been attended to in days. It's amazing how different one looks when they're not showing off for the paps._

_Dexter patted Taron on the back as he introduced them. "Taron, this is Richard. Richard - Taron," he said. "Elton and I are going to step out and give you two a bit of time to chat. How about we all meet up in the lobby for lunch at one?"_

_"Sounds great Dex, thanks," Taron replied, though he never torn his eyes away from Richard. Out of his peripheral vision he could have sworn that he saw Elton grinning at him, that bugger._

 _"Richard, so lovely to meet you finally. Heard so much about you."_

_"Same here," Richard chuckled and shook the hand that Taron had extended to him. "It only took what, a year?"_

_Taron snorted a laugh and took a seat at one of the rolling chairs in front of the control panel, motioning for Richard to take the other one. "Right. Although, I did see you in a restaurant a few months ago. You were with a pretty girl, so I didn't want to interrupt."_

_Richard shrugged a shoulder with confidence, as if to say 'of course I was there with a pretty girl.' "Ye can interrupt me any time, Taron."_

_Taron eyed Richard, squinting, trying to figure him out. He was confident, but not cocky, handsome, but approachable. "Noted. Be prepared for a LOT of late nights where I phone you asking for acting advice, then." The joke made Richard laugh and Taron decided then that he'd do all he could to make his new mate laugh. He liked the way Richard roared with laughter, unexpectedly loud for a man that seemed so measured._

_"Right. Then I'll be sure to ring ye because I need singing lessons. Heard a little bit of yer stuff and got myself all nervous. They're going to have to auto tune me." Now it was time for Taron to laugh. "What? S'not funny! Just ye wait and see."_

_"Yunno, I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Taron joked._

_They looked at each other, smiling and laughing for what seemed like hours. It was comfortable, like they had been mates for years._

Richard and Taron spent ninety percent of their time together, only parting when Taron went back to Wales to visit his family every other month. Taron had essentially moved in with Richard, rotating between the same eight outfits he packed with him on what was supposed to be a short holiday. Maybe that was the benefit of being mates first, Taron thought, because it wasn't awkward living with Richard and sharing his space. They learned a few new things about each other along the way, saw each other at their best and their worst, and those three months showed Taron that they were unbreakable. 

By the time May rolled around, they were elbows deep in the Rocketman press tour, traveling to a new city each day and spending twelve of those hours answering questions for various media outlets around the world. While answering the same questions over and over could have been repetitive and boring, they found a way to make it fun. 

Taron talked fondly in his interviews about the strength of his friendship with Richard and how talented he is. Richard told journalists that Taron is kind and loving, and way more talented than he gives himself credit for. Though they denied their relationship in those interviews, their adoration for each other was obvious to everyone. 

In between interviews and on breaks, they took each opportunity to sneak away and find a closet somewhere to snog in, unable to keep their hands off of each other for extended periods of time. Sometimes they'd wank each other and if time permitted, suck each other off, becoming pros at doing it quickly and quietly. It was without a doubt the best time Taron ever had on a press tour. 

When it was finally time for their stop in Cannes, Taron was a ball of nerves. His anxiety made it impossible to fall asleep, so he'd lay there next to Richard and just thinking. Cannes was infamous for being a tough crowd to please, and while Taron was confident in the film they made, he was still apprehensive to see everyone's reaction. It was possible that this film meant as much to him as it did to Elton, if not more for different reasons. 

Richard was Taron's rock. He helped him tie his bow tie and smoothed the palms of his hands over the shoulders of Taron's suit jacket, brushing away any strands fuzz from the velvet. "Ye look gorgeous," he said lovingly. "But yer so tense. Try to relax a little, babe." 

Taron sighed and wiggled his arms, trying to relieve them of tension. "I know, m'sorry. I'll be better once I'm out there," he clarified. "You look gorgeous too, by the way." The white suit that Richard was wearing threatened to bring Taron to his knees in more ways than one. "I'm quite looking forward to ravaging you in it later." 

Richard grinned smugly and took Taron by the hand. "Well then. With promises like that for later, let's get this night over with, shall we?" 

They walked the red carpet arm in arm, Taron placing a kiss to Richard's temple every few minutes until they separated so that they could take their seats in the theater. Taron was a little miffed that he didn't get to sit next to Richard nor Elton, but he let it go. Those were little insignificant details - what was important was what the reaction would be when the film ended. 

Taron was literally on the edge of his seat the entire time, emotions welling up inside him. When he glanced at Elton and David, he saw them holding hands and sobbing. Happy sobs were literally the worst for Taron, because he was a sympathetic crier. Top that with the fact that he was beaming with pride at the work they'd done; it was the first time he'd actually seen the film completely through and it blew him away. 

When the film ended and the lights came on, Taron's ears were assaulted with the sound of thunderous applause. Taking a look around him, he saw the entire crowd at their feet, cheering - and even some crying. That's really all it took for him to lose grasp on whatever endurance he'd had left. When he stood he was met with a hug from Elton, and then David, everyone in their row stopping one by one to hug him. When Taron finally got to embrace Richard he felt safe. 

"I love you," Richard whispered in his ear and then pulled away before Taron could physically or verbally react, even though his heart was doing all the reacting for him as it pumped incessantly in his chest. He wanted to say it back, even if he just whispered it in Richard's ear, but before he could do so he was pulled away by Dexter, who was leading him up to the stage. Taron almost regretted the surprise performance he'd had planned with Elton, but it was one last hurdle to get through before he could corner Richard and kiss him senseless. 

He'd had enough time to center himself before the stagehand gave him his microphone. When Elton began to play the opening for Rocketman, Taron allowed himself to let everything go and enjoy the moment. Every now and then he'd glance off stage to see Richard standing there watching, waiting. He looked so beautiful standing there in his crisp white suit, that grey strip in his hair visible from afar. The sight of him made Taron ache in the best way possible. 

Elton and Taron hugged, kissed and took their bows, and before anyone else could approach him, he'd ran off stage and grabbed Richard by the hand. 

"Where are we going?" he asked loudly, his voice rising above the music of Elton playing his next song. 

"Somewhere we can be alone." He weaved their fingers together and brought Richard deeper into the back stage area, the opposite end of where everyone was gathered to watch Elton's performance. When he was satisfied that no one would find them, he gently pushed Richard into the curtained area and pinned him against the wall. "How could you say that to me for the first time right then, knowing I wouldn't have a chance to say anything in return!" he scolded playfully. 

Richard shrugged and grasped Taron's lapels, gentle to not wrinkle them. They still had an after party to go to before the night was through. "I couldn't hold it in any longer. Watching the film, seeing the reception of the crowd, and ye... ye look so handsome, even with tears in yer eyes. I love it when ye cry when yer happy, yunno? Ye have such a big heart, Taron Egerton. And I love that heart." 

Taron inhaled sharply, willing himself not to break down in tears again at Richard's words. "I love you too." He leaned in to press his lips to Richard's ear, whispering the same words in Welsh, "Rwy'n dy garu di." 

It wasn't lost on him how cliche this all felt, but truth be told Taron lived for cheeky, romantic moments like these. In fact, he was half tempted to hop on the tube and take it all the way to Paris so that he could shout how much he loved Richard from the top of the Eiffel Tower. He turned his head to capture Richard's lips with his own, kissing him slow and open-mouthed, savoring the way he tasted when he sucked Richard's tongue into his mouth. 

If it weren't for the fact that they'd just received a four minute standing ovation, Taron would be halfway back to their hotel by now, preparing for a night of passionate lovemaking with Richard. "Think we better get out of here before I can't control myself any longer," he murmured. 

"Right," Richard laughed. "Let's go. Pretty sure they have a car waiting for us anyway." 

The car took them to the after party, where they danced with each other without prudence. It was their night, after all, and damnit if they wouldn't enjoy it. They spent hours mingling with the party-goers, Taron indulging them by taking the stage not once, but twice to sing his version of a couple of Elton's songs. By the time they'd stumbled into the car to head back to their hotel, it was three am and they were at least eight pints in and completely smashed to say the least. 

Taron, unable to turn down a drink when it was handed to him, had far more to drink than Richard did. He shuffled into their room, stumbling over his suitcase before falling face first and fully clothed into their bed. "Wasn't planning on getting so pissed tonight, Dickie. M'so sorry," he mumbled into the pillow. He could hear the familiar sound of Richard chuckling behind him as he grabbed at Taron's shoes, pulling them off his feet. 

“It was yer night, Taron. Ye deserved to get a little shit faced," he said. "Now c'mon and roll over so I can undress ye. Ye’ll strangle yerself if ye sleep in that getup." 

Taron groaned, the act of rolling over taking far too much energy. However, he did enjoy the way Richard undressed him, slowly, lovingly, carefully. It made him picture their distant future together, old and wrinkly, taking care of each other until the end. It was a future he didn't know if they could have, but one that knew that he wanted more than anything. 

Finally, he gathered enough stamina to sit up and wriggle out of his pants, leaving himself clad in only his black briefs. He watched Richard undress and hang up his suit, butterflies roaming his stomach as he thought about how much he adored the man in front of him. 

"Richard," he started. "I know we were supposed to have this amazing night of love making, but I'm knackered. Can we-" 

"We have forever to do all that. Let's get some sleep," Richard replied as he slinked under the duvet and pulled it back for Taron to join him. Taron found a home in his usual spot, his head on Richard's shoulder with an arm enveloping his midsection. When he heard Richard exhale a happy sigh, he felt those butterflies again. 

"I must admit that I like the sound of forever," Taron whispered. He looked up at Richard, nudging the tip of his nose against the stubble at his jawline. It was then that he noticed Richard was already sound asleep, soft, rhythmic breaths leaving his lips. 

Taron couldn't avoid the smile that spread over his face like wild fire. If this was his forever, then he was the happiest man on Earth. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a Tumblr, feel free to follow me [here :)](https://tonkssweeney.tumblr.com/)


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